“I’ve tried.” He smiled at her, his wide mouth curved boyishly, and she realized how rarely he smiled anymore. But then his smile died. “I’ll take care of Violet’s problem, but I can’t do the same for you until you tell me which way I should start. You need to make a decision about Harry Pye, George, and you need to make it soon.”

“DOES SHE HAVE A GOLDEN cunt, Pye?”

Harry stiffened and slowly turned to the speaker, his left hand flexed and loose by his side. He’d taken the boy on his rounds this morning after Lady Georgina had left his cottage; then they’d ridden to West Dikey. He’d hoped to find a pair of shoes for the lad.

The oaf who’d spoken was the big-fisted man from the brawl at the Cock and Worm. The knife wound that Harry had given him stood out a livid red on his face. It started at one side of his forehead, slashed across the bridge of his nose, and ended on the far cheek. He was flanked on either side by two big men. They’d chosen a good place to confront him. A deserted lane, not much more than an alley. The stink of the open sewer running through the middle of the lane was powerful in the sun.

“You ought to put a poultice on that,” Harry said, nodding at the crusted scar on the man’s face. It was oozing pus.

The other man grinned, stretching the end of the scar on his cheek until it broke open and leaked blood. “Does she give you pretty things for your stud work?”

“Maybe she dresses his pud with gold rings.” One of the man’s cronies giggled.

Beside him, Harry felt the boy tense. He laid his right hand on his shoulder. “I can open that wound for you, if you like,” Harry said gently. “Drain the poison away.”

“Poison. Aye, you’d know about poison, wouldn’t you, Pye?” The scarred man sneered in amusement at his own wit. “Hear you’ve turned your poisoning from animals to women now.”

Harry frowned. What?

His opponent correctly interpreted his frown. “Didn’t you know, then?” The man cocked his head. “They found her body on th’ moor this morning.”

“Who?”

“That’s a hanging offense, that is. Murder. There’re those who say your neck should be stretched right away. But you’ve been busy with your mistress, haven’t you?”

The big man leaned forward, and Harry’s left hand dropped to his boot.

“Does she tell you when to spend, Pye? Or maybe she doesn’t let you spend at all. Would soil her fine, white body, wouldn’t it? Having common spunk on her. Don’t bother with that.” He gestured to where Harry’s hand hovered near his knife. “I wouldn’t want to hurt a man-whore.”

The three men walked off, laughing.